Panic, Promise and Prosperity
by Nysnys
Summary: Clay, Kelly and Valery all have three things in common: their lives in the Capital Wasteland are about to change, but in what way? Rated M for language, adult themes and  mild  violence.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** So. This is my first ever English-written story, so there's a possibility that I've made some mistakes in terms of the grammatical tense. If you see any mistakes, please, please point them out to me. I've let several people read this before posting and I do know how to use Word's spell checker, but you can never be too sure._  
><em>Hopefully this warning hasn't scared you off and you're still reading, if so: thanks!<br>What I value even more than compliments, is constructive criticism, so please R&R~!_

* * *

><p><em>A fire burns today<em>  
><em>Of blasphemy and genocide<em>  
><em>The sirens of decay<em>  
><em>Will infiltrate the inside<em>  
>(East Jesus Nowhere – Green Day)<p>

**CHAPTER 1**

_Clay_

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the same gray, metallic ceiling I see every single day. There are dents in them, made by the previous owner of my room. Supposedly, he got crazy. Imagine that.

There are 18 dents in total, I've counted them all. Sometimes I think about matching the walls with the ceiling, but Chris – our Overseer – made it perfectly clear that wasn't accepted. I may be bored with my life at the age of 17, but I'm not suicidal.

My heart skipped a beat when the intercom announced breakfast, like it does every day. What doesn't happen everyday is a raid. With Vault 7 being one of the few places where survivors from the atomic war live, Raiders are desperate to help themselves to our supplies. Every once in a while there's a breach, which causes the alarms to go off. The only thing more horrible than that sound, are the cold faces of those Raiders and the sickening sound of bullets piercing through body parts. And the blood…

I gave myself a mental shake and put on my Vault 7 jumpsuit. They're not comfortable at all, but every resident is supposed to wear one, just another rule. Like not making dents in the walls, or obeying the intercoms.

Breakfast was served in the dining area, a large, gray room with gray stools and - you guessed it - gray tables. Even the counter and bar were gray. A few posters decorate the walls, pictures of people smiling, being all happy-family-ish, but it just made the room look even more depressing.

Another depressing fact: the room wasn't even close to being filled. Chris tries to get the residents to have more babies (yes, I know how fucked up that sounds), but for some reason families never have more than two children.

Right now, me and Nelson are the only kids our age. Which is good because I won't have to worry about being forced to have children. And it's bad because the prospect of not having sex anytime soon (or eventually having to have sex with Nelson's sister) isn't very appealing. Not that she's bad looking – actually, she's quite pretty, but being Nelson's little sister and me having seen her in diapers just doesn't do it for me.

Already losing my appetite, I sat next to Nelson, who was shoving food in his mouth. Everybody said we made an odd pair: me being fairly - ok, incredibly - talented with Guns and such, and Nelson being more of a computer geek. To magnify his image even more, he wears a pair of thick glasses, which are barely visible behind his thick black hair, and always carries around a notebook and pen.

'Hey man, what's for breakfast?'

Nelson stopped a second to look at me and pointed at his plate. 'Geez, I know I'm the one wearing glasses, but sometimes I think you could use one as well.'

Staring at his plate, I could barely make out some bits of bacon along with a yellow goo-ish substance. I definitely lost the rest of my appetite. Just when I was getting ready to stand up, my mother arrived, holding two steaming hot plates. 'Where do you think you're going, Clay? You know you need to eat well in case of an attack.'

Rolling my eyes, I took the plate and tried to swallow the stuff as soon as it entered my mouth. Yep, definitely tastes as bad as it looks.

'So Clay, what's your day like today?' Nelson asked, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin.

I gave out a snort. 'What d'you think? Cleanup duty and after that Tinkering class. Followed by Gun practice and then, of course Science class.' I made a face. 'And last but not least, work in the supply room.'

Nelson nodded. 'Right, I still don't get why you have to take Science class, everybody knows you suck at it.' 'Yeah? Well, at least I didn't almost shoot myself while cleaning my gun,' I shot back. So, yeah, the morning went by as usual.

The figure approached me fast and unpredictable.

'You will not escape me!' it shouted, coming at me with an unidentified object.

Adrenaline shot through my body as I aimed for its head and was just about to pull the trigger, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I cursed as I fired the gun, missing my target by far.

Standing there was Nelsons younger sister, Eve. 'Jesus Eve, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on people when they're holding a gun?'

The robotic target stopped right in front of me, and a big "YOU LOSE" sign appeared on its "face".

Eve's big, innocent brown eyes looked up at me apologetic. 'Sorry Clay, it's just, Chris asked me to get you asap,' she looked at the sign. 'Look at the bright side, at least this'll probably mean you get to skip Science class. And you missing a target means somebody else might actually have a shot – no pun intended - to win this year's Gun Master Award.'

I grinned at her. 'You're right about Science, but there's no way I'm giving up my title. Anyway, what does Chris want?'

Eve shrugged. 'Not sure, he just told me to get you. I offered to get my brother instead, but he specifically asked for you, sorry.'

I shook my head. 'Nah, it's fine, thanks Eve.'

'Sure, later Clay' she winked at me and walked away.

As I was packing my stuff, I wondered what Chris could possibly want. I wasn't the only one who noticed that he kept out of my way. Except for the usual yelling at me for flooding the toilets or picking his locks, he never paid much attention to me. So for him to send out a request to meet him, when I did none of the above, was strange to say the least.

Upon arrival I heard two voices arguing, so, naturally, I did what any boy my age would do: eavesdrop.

'He's just a boy!' the female voice said, or rather, almost shrieked. Mom? Why was my mom in Chris' office?

'You know very well that he's no longer just a boy' I could almost see him make quotation marks in the air with his big hands. 'He's seventeen for crying out loud, and you know the rules. With the limited number of residents we need every man we can get. All boys need to help out when they are fourteen, you know this.' He paused to calm his voice. 'I've been bending the rules long enough for you, Jennifer. Don't think you'll get a special treatment, just because of what happened..'

I could hear my mother gasp and that's when I decided it was time to interfere, so I knocked on the door as I entered.

'Am I interrupting something?' I could see the tears in my mothers eyes, threatening to come out. She quickly turned her head. I raised my eyebrow.

'No, of course not,' Chris said amicably. 'Thank you for coming, Clay. As you may have noticed, every night when you go to sleep, a team of men guard our entrance.' His voice was accusing, like it was my fault I needed the sleep. 'Even your friend Nelson helps out.

'I tried to hide my smile. Being protected by Nelson didn't make me feel a whole lot safer. While he's a genius with any computer, fighting just isn't his thing.

'You can smile all you want, Clay, but it's about time you start doing your part to keep this society safe.'

Up until now, my mother had remained quiet, but his last comment made her snap. 'Excuse me, Chris, but you shouldn´t to talk to my son like that. If I remember clearly, it was MY boy who helped diminish the last threat. MY boy who saved your ass, so you might want to tone down a bit.' Her voice was like acid, and I had to keep my mouth from falling open. This was a side I've never ever seen from her. Realizing her outburst, she shut her mouth again, but her eyes were spewing fire.

'I think you need to leave, Ms McCally. Now.' Chris said through gritted teeth and without another word, my mother turned and marched out.

As soon as she had left the room, the tension dropped from Chris' face. 'So, where were we,' he beamed. 'Ah, yes, watchmen duty. As you can see, I've added this to your schedule. With your perfect aim, I'm sure the people will feel and be a lot safer.'

He handed me my new schedule and I was happy to see that I was excused from Science class. That happiness didn't last long, however, 'cause I noticed that I had to play watchmen for five hours a day. 'What?' I yelled out. 'Five extra hours? There hasn't been a breach in months! You know, I do like my sleep.'

Chris just stared at me with his small, gray eyes. 'I've never heard Nelson about a five hour watchmen duty.'

'Yes, well, Mr. Jemm helps out in other areas, more suited for his talents. As you may recall, he was the one who fixed up Rosie, so you can have nice, nutritious meals again. And he still fills his one hour per day quota. ' He was referring to the Mr. Gutsy robot named Rosie. The robot broke down a couple of weeks ago, which meant we had to eat canned, raw food. I wanted to argue with him that these 'nice nutritious meals' were actually more like 'disgusting Brahmin feces', but decided not to.

'Now, if there's nothing else…' Chris hinted. I got the hint and stood up, holding my new schedule. 'Don't be late tonight,' he said with a dismissive gesture. I got up and left, fighting the urge to give him the finger.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_Jennifer_

That bastard! Was it too much to ask to not let Clay risk his life every day, like I know he was doing for his slimey friend Wilson, who only had a shift once a week.

I took a drag from my cigarette. A bad habit I had picked up after it had happened. We're not allowed to smoke, but I found a pack in Chris' office once. Figures he'd break his own rules.

My mind was racing while I was fighting the memories that were threatening to consume me again. 'I won't let this break me again,' I whispered, looking around guiltily. Luckily, the dining area was deserted except for Rosie who was tending the bar doing.. nothing, actually.

I put out the cigarette and got up to leave as I heard footsteps approach.

'Oh, er, hi mom,' Clay said, obviously surprised I was here. He was shifting his gaze and looked very uncomfortable.

Every time I saw him, it hit me how fast time is passing by, like the earth couldn't wait to expose him to the cruelty that is adulthood. I was happy he looked so much like me, with his messy dark auburn hair that was effortlessly in place. His green, almond shaped eyes, the only evidence of his father being the gray spots within. His build was not due to my genes, though, with me only being 5'3" and him well over 5'9". But there was one thing that made it unmistakable that he was my son: his small mouth, capable of forming a wide grin, one he would wear most of the time. But not now, he was biting his lip, a tic he most definitely got from me.

'What's wrong?' I immediately asked. He raised his eyebrow – something he does so often I sometimes wonder if his face is permanently stuck that way.

'Nothing, I, er, just wondered what that was all about.. back in the Overseers office…' he mumbled, looking at the ground.

I tried to keep my face neutral. 'Sorry about that, I got a little agitated. I just can't believe you're on watchmen duty.' My heart was beating too fast and my face felt flustered.

'Well, why not? I mean, if everyone has to do it, why shouldn't I?' Clay hesitated, contemplating. 'Also.. please don't be mad, but I heard you guys arguing.' I swallowed, willing my nerves to calm down. Please don't ask. Please don't.

He continued, 'What did Chris mean by "what happened"?'

My heart sank. And there came the lies. 'He's talking about your father. I just can't believe you have to be a watchmen after the way your father failed.'

And there came the tears, not crying over my story, but still flowing over another memory. One I could never, ever tell Clay.

'_Chris, what are you doing here? It's nearly one a.m.'_

_That's what I still remember: it being nearly one in the morning. I had just lost both of my parents because of a raid, so lying awake at night wasn't unusual for me. I still wonder if he knew that. If that's the reason he picked me._

_The second thing that hit me was his eyes, then his smell. We're only allowed to drink alcohol on special accessions, but he was most definitely drunk._

_His small gray eyes hazy and scanning the room, observing. The silence scared me._

_'What do you want, Chris?' He said nothing, just stumbled over to my bed where I was lying in my underwear. It was too hot to sleep under the covers, but to this day I still regret the absence of a cover, something to hide under._

_I don't know if that had helped, but I regret not doing so. __I regret a lot._

_I regret that I still know all the details, like the way he smelled my hair, his pointy nose close to my ear.__The way I was petrified, unable to move or speak coherent sentences. To feel like I was outside of my body, yet very present. The way he had sighed, nauseating me with his breath, when it was over. The silent tears streaming down my face. The pain I felt, not only physical, but emotional as well. And the way I lay awake the entire night, unable to do anything but cry, until my tears had ran dry. And the way I felt when I found out that this event would haunt me the rest of my life, both in my mind as before my eyes, for I had conceived a beautiful baby boy._

'Mom? Are you okay?' Clay's voice snapped me back to reality. His worried face squeezed my heart even more. I tried to pull myself together.

'Yes, honey, I'm sorry. It's just hard,' I tried to smile, but I'm sure it wasn't more than a grimace. 'Sorry. I'm sure you'll be alright. You're a tough one.' Clay's face brightened a little.

'Yeah, you don't have to worry about me, mom. Besides, there hasn't been a breach in months.'

I nodded. 'You're still my baby - don't roll your eyes at me, you are - So I worry about you. But I should get back to the medical room, see if anybody needs anything.' Another lie, but I wanted to be alone very much.

'Be careful, hon.' And with that I left, wiping the tears from my face.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_Clay_

Watchmen duty wasn't all it's made out to be. Basically it meant sitting on a chair and staring at the entrance.

A man named Wilson was my co-guard, but he wasn't very chatty. At least not to me. He prided himself on being Chris' right hand, the go-to guy, but he was nothing more than a suck up and he wouldn't think twice about betraying Chris to get what he wanted. But it still got him places.

I yawned for the third time in what seemed like a minute. What had surprised me, was how different this part of the Vault was from the interior. The only gray to be found, was the huge machinery-looking door with a big, red "7" in the middle. It was framed by nothing but rocks, and I wondered how those rocks could've stayed in place for all those years. I also wondered how people were able to open the door, seeing as how massive it was. It must be computer controlled, and suddenly Nelson being a watchman made much more sense to me.

I checked my pip-boy, only ten minutes had passed. Great.

I thought back about the argument between mom and Chris and realized how little I actually knew about my father. I know he had gray eyes and my dark auburn hair color. I know he had died during a raid, but that's it. Mom's face always refrained me from asking more questions, but they were there. Like, what used to be his talents? What was his name? Do I owe my mad gun skillz to him? Did he die a hero or a coward? Questions I would probably never get answered. Ah well, it didn't matter that much.

'So, what do you think is out there?' Wilson asked me after hours of silence.

I was close to dozing off, so his question startled me. 'Er, a wasteland?' _Hence the name_.

'Don't be smart with me, boy, of course it's a wasteland. But don't you ever wonder what it'd be like to live up there?'

I blinked a few times, pondering his question. 'I guess I never did. Chris always shows us pictures and recordings and they don't sound very appealing to me. Besides, if we're not even completely safe from Raiders here, imagine what it'd be like up there.'

Wilson nodded thoughtfully. 'Right. But, have you ever wondered how they survive? Sure, they steal food and supplies, but wouldn't they eventually run out? And where do all those Raiders come from anyway? If it's such a hellhole up there, how can anyone survive? It would seem impossible to me, but that's just my two cents.'

His point of view caught me off guard, I hadn't stopped to think about any of that.

'Have you ever noticed the dents in your room's ceiling?' I nodded slowly, how could I have missed them? 'They're from a guy who had your room before you were born, his name was Collin Dunlow. Living down here slowly made him lose his mind, but before Chris took care of him he used to shout about the outside world, how it wasn't as bad as we're told and that we're trapped in here. People didn't want to admit it, but it got us thinking. Of course Chris shushed the rumors as quickly as they came.'

I found myself speechless again.

His pip-boy made a sound. 'Well, looks like duty is over for us, let's go.'

Walking back to my room, I couldn't stop thinking about what Wilson had said. Once a week we have History class in which Chris tells us about the Wasteland. The pictures and holotapes don't lie: it's fucking terrible. Nothing but a brown, barren clump of land and people who have no problem with shooting you for your belongings, or worse.

We're lucky to live in this Vault, he says, although he's never been outside himself. I never stopped to argue with him, because what he said made sense, until now. If it's really that horrible out there, how could others survive? The supplies that get stolen would never suffice for a lifetime, not even close.

Another thing I never considered: our Vault is number seven: how many other Vaults are out there? And how do we know if they survived at all? And if Raiders are able to get in, why can't we get out? Shouldn't we at least try? Look for ourselves if it's really that horrible? I made a mental note to ask Chris later.

First it was time to get some well deserved sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_Kelly_

My heart was beating loud in my chest: I wondered if anybody could hear? This thought made me laugh because, of course, no one was around.

'It's just me in this hellhole!' My voice echoed around the walls. Well, walls is actually an overstatement. They used to be walls, surrounding a room that must have been someone's living room. I wondered again how people could have ever felt safe, surrounded by nothing more than these concrete walls. Maybe they never did.

'Never assume anything.' Echoes again. 'At least I won't get lonely as long as I can talk to myself.' I laughed again and turned on the little radio I always carried around.

My left foot was anxiously tapping the floor and I felt myself getting restless, panicky. Soon, the Jet would wear off and I'd be stuck in reality again.

I reached for my cigarettes and lit one up. The long drags, keeping the cigarette between my thin, cracked lips, calmed me down.

'What am I going to do?' I wondered aloud. I was down to my last bottle caps and I only had one more dose of Jet left. Everything within walking distance had already been looted, so I would have to find another way to make caps.

The sun was starting to set, but I was too restless to stay here.

Without really thinking about it, I grabbed the few possessions I had, turned the radio off and head out east. Missing the comforting sounds of my radio, the chill of the evening gave me goose bumps and every few seconds I automatically turned my head to check if I was still alone.

Paranoia is a common thing when you live in the Capital Wastelands, heck, it's the key to survival, no matter what that damned Wasteland Survival Guide said. I shook my head, no need to reminisce.

As I was walking, I noticed the main road up ahead. That meant I was getting close to the MDPL-13 Power Station, a complex with three huge chimneys that haven't blown smoke for centuries. I contemplated going in to see if anything valuable had survived all these years, but in a previous attempt, I encountered some ghouls.

Ghouls are the scum of the Wasteland: they used to be human, but got exposed to radiation. Lots of it. Some ghouls still have a piece of humanity and intelligence in them and are actually able to converse. But I always thought they were creepy and disgusting. They basically looked like zombies and most of them were. Just like the ones in the power station. Not that I couldn't handle them, but I decided not to enter anyway. Surely there had to be a better option.

My heartbeat slowed and I could feel my pulse lowering. Suddenly, I felt exhausted and shivered. Maybe it would've been a better idea if I had stayed inside that hovel. 'Well, too late now,' I whispered. I'd been walking for hours and it was probably past midnight.

Looking around, I noticed some light in the distance. Maybe a merchant decided to set up camp. A merchant would mean one of two things: I would either be able to buy some Jet, or get some caps. With this prospect, I found renewed hope and marched straight ahead, forgetting the number one rule in survival: always look around.

I felt the bite before I saw the creature, but luckily it didn't hurt too bad. The darkness made it hard to actually see it, but I could smell it was a mole rat. The adrenalin in my body reduced a little, mole rats hardly posed a threat. I quickly grabbed my combat knife and stabbed it in its head as hard as I could and repeated this over and over, until I was sure it wasn't moving anymore and I could feel the blood spatters on my armor.

'Damn rodents,' I muttered as I wrapped a piece of mol rat meat in a cloth. 'Oh well, at least now I have something to eat.' My stomach turned as I glanced at the piece of meat. 'Or sell.'

Another wave of exhaustion came over me, and I realized I hadn't eaten or slept in hours.

With no real shelter nearby, I walked over to a couple of massive rocks. The ground wasn't too comfy, but I had dealt with worse, so I snuggled up against the cold boulders and used my backpack as a pillow.

After making sure no beasts were near, and my hands were firmly holding my gun, I let my head rest and fell asleep almost instantly.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

_Kelly_

I woke up to the sun shining brightly in my face and my stomach telling me I should definitely eat something.

With my head still woozy from sleep, I rummaged through my backpack. One bottle of dirty water left, and the only edible thing I had was the mole rat meat. I sighed as I lit up a fire to cook the meat. That merchant better has something to eat, because I wasn't exactly planning on surviving on mole rat meat.

After each bite I took a sip of water to clean out the taste. It could've been worse, though. I've seen people eat strange, unidentifiable meat that looked about as tasty as Radscorpion hide (which isn't very tasty, I can tell you).  
>After cleaning my face with a cloth and some dirty water, I packed my things and went further east.<p>

I really hoped that merchant would have some Jet. The anticipation nearly paralyzed me. I could feel the need washing over me, burning in me. I still had one left….

No. I would never use my last dose unless I had to, or if the need felt too strong. It's only been a couple of hours, surely I could survive a few more.

I lit another cigarette and looked around me. It's hard to imagine there ever was anything different than this brown, dead wasteland. Faded signs told stories of another lifetime. A lifetime where people paid with paper, instead of bottle caps. A life I couldn't understand. If people paid with paper, why not make your own paper? Maybe I was just crazy.

I did pity the merchant, though. Not too long ago, I walked the same path. Trying to make an honest living by selling wares to travelers. But my fate would've been the same as him, had I continued down that road. Sure, I had made enough caps to survive and maybe even settle down, but it was just too dangerous. Being a traveling merchant was basically the same as wearing a huge neon-sign that said "KILL ME, I'VE GOT WARES". And settling down became impossible after the first time I got offered Jet.

I picked a scab on my arm that was itching like crazy. Ah, Jet. Some may say that my life went downhill from there, but seeing as how low I already was, there wasn't much of a downhill. Jet made my life a lot more interesting.

I noticed the change in my surroundings a little too late. The main road was replaced with orange gravel, surrounded by big greenish radiated pools.

'Fuck.' I dropped the cigarette and ran as quickly as I could, averting my eyes, as if not seeing the puddles made all the difference. Radiation was bad. You couldn't smell or even feel it, before it was too late. Everything I ate was irradiated, so the last thing I needed was even more radiation.

Ugh, I'd have to spend my caps on RadAway. So much for buying more Jet. 'Fuck!'

I took a couple of deep breaths and looked around once again. In the distance I could see a faded sign standing tall before a small building.

'Almost there.'

But before I could continue my journey, a loud explosion threw me off balance and the smoke blurred my vision.

For a while, I couldn't hear anything except for my raced heartbeat and a beep in my ears. When the smoke pulled away, I saw four people, three men and one woman, standing over a dead body. At least, that's what I think it was. The lower body was blown off, along with part of his arms.

Ugh, I hate explosives.

'Hahahah, we got him good,' the woman cackled, clapping her hands. She was bald and dressed in the same spiked armor as I was. Fellow raiders.

One of the men, the leader, I presumed, inspected what was left of the body.

He grunted. 'Nothing too big. Some caps, aids and an assault rifle. Oh well, better than nothing.'

The woman eagerly grabbed the assault rifle. 'Great, I was running out of ammo anyway.'

That's when she noticed me, standing a couple of feet away. Without hesitation, she aimed her assault rifle at me and if it wasn't for the leader stopping her, I'd probably be missing a limb or worse.

Finally, one of the other men spoke up. 'Who the fuck are you?'

I raised my hands above my head, to show I meant no harm. 'I'm a raider, like you.' The girl snorted.

'I saw a light yesterday and decided to check it out, but I can see this place is taken.' Silence. 'I mean no harm.' Never hurts to exaggerate your point.

'Can we kill her, please?' the woman semi-whispered to the leader, loud enough for me to hear. Cute.

The leader shook his head. 'You're in luck, we could use the another body. Got any fighting skills?'

I nodded, not sure I liked where this was going. 'I've got a combat knife and a 10mm and know how to use them.'

'Excellent. Ed, grab our guest something to eat. She looks terrible.'

The man, who up until this point has stayed quiet went inside with a shrug. So, the tall, silent one was named Ed.

'What's your name?' the leader asked.

'Kelly.' Did I really look horrible? I haven't seen a mirror in days, so I couldn't be sure.

'Welcome, Kelly. My name is Arch, this is Catherine,' he nodded his head to the woman, who possessively grabbed his arm. Arch didn't respond.

'And the man who so kindly asked who you were, is Rudy.'

Already forgetting their names, I just nodded. 'So, what was that about needing another body?'

Catherine rolled her eyes, clearly hinting that the last thing they needed was me. That bitch was really getting on my nerves.

'We'll talk about that later, first get yourself something to eat and clean up.'

Everyone went inside and I decided I'd might as well follow. Something told me little miss annoying wouldn't have any problems with shooting my head off if I walked away.

The first thing that hit me when I entered the diner was the smell. Fumes of rotting and burned corpses entered my nose and I had to stop myself from gagging. Throughout the diner laid several corpses, with and without limbs, surrounded by pools of blood.

The walls had blood spatters on them as well and from the ceiling even more corpses dangled from big iron chains.

'Nice place you've got here.'

Arch, who was sitting behind the counter, laughed. 'We're sending a message to travelers. Of course, most of them don't even make it inside.'

Catherine gave a sly smile. 'You should consider yourself lucky that you're not hanging from the ceiling right now.'

I lit up another cigarette. It was all I could do to stop myself from hurling at the bitch and cut her throat.

Ed finally returned with a plate of InstaMash and Iguana-on-a-stick. I happily took it and dug in, much to the disgust of Catherine.

While I was eating, Arch gave orders to clean up the body and reset the traps. Ed, Catherine and the other man whose name started with an R – I think - went outside.

'Catherine was right, you know. You should be thanking your lucky stars you're still breathing,' Arch said to me.

I swallowed the last bite and looked at him expectantly.

'The reason we're allowing you to live, is because we're planning a big raid.' When I didn't respond to the ominous "big raid", he continued. 'We've discovered a Vault not too far from here. My sources informed me that it's guarded, but not heavily. And supposedly, the Vault has a lot of supplies, both medicinal and for combat.'

I looked at him unaffected. Why should I risk my life like that for mere supplies. He must've read the question in my eyes.

'Of course you'll be paid handsomely and you get to keep part of the supplies.'

'How much?'

Arch narrowed his eyes a little. '5.000 caps.'

I tried to look unimpressed, because the first rule in bartering is knowing how to raise or lower the price, but in my mind I whistled. That amount would make sure I'd have enough Jet for a while.

Clearly annoyed by my indifference, he added 'And if you don't, we'll kill you. But not before we cut off your fingers one at a time and make you eat them.' That did it.

'Ok, ok, relax. I'll do it.' Psychos. This is why I usually traveled alone. Less threats.

At that point, the other Raiders came in.

'Why don't you freshen up a bit, and then we'll talk about the plan.'

I went to the bathroom in a hurry, trying not to trip over lost body parts. How the hell did I get myself in this situation? Ugh, doesn't matter. More importantly: how the hell am I going to get out of it?

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and found Arch was right: I did look terrible.

My purple, spiked hair looked brownish and I had bags under my eyes that were the same color as the bruises on my arms. My usually pale face was covered in dirt, which made the scar on my cheek seem even more white. I stroked it. An obvious reminder of the cruelty of the Wastelands.

I will never, ever forget the face of the Raider who ambushed me, back when I was a merchant. He nearly poked my eye out with his knife, but hit my cheek instead. I shot him point blank.

He was the first person I had ever killed. I never enjoyed killing. Seeing someone's lights go out of their eyes is horrifying, something that still haunted my dreams. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and my scar reminded me of that.

I inspected my apparel. Of course my armor's seen better days as well. Maybe I could get one of them to give me some materials to repair it. Maybe..

I washed my face and parts of my body and took a huge gulp of water, not caring about the radiation.

As soon as I was done with this job, I'd have enough caps to go to a doctor.

More proof of the selfishness of mankind: overcharging to remove radiation.

After 26 years it shouldn't disgust me anymore, but it did. The Great War may have caused the destruction of the land, but the destruction of humanity had nothing to do with nuclear bombs. That one's all on the people. Not that I'm all innocent.

'Jesus, you giving birth in there or what?' Catherine barged in without knocking. She observed me. 'No, I guess you really are ugly.' Ten, nine, eight, seven…

'Hurry up, obviously you can't cure ugliness, so get out. We're waiting for you.' Six, five, four… I followed her back to the main area.

No, I didn't enjoy killing, but with her, I wouldn't hate it either.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Another short, in-between chapter. Sorry, it needs to happen! I promise some serious action in about 2 chapters ;).

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 6<strong>

_Clay_

I got up extra early today, something I would not do unless it was absolutely necessary.

It's been a few days since that nightshift with Wilson, but what he had said had stuck with me. What was out there, exactly? I've been wanting to talk to Nelson for a while now, but Chris got him super busy. Maybe he knew. Maybe Wilson tricked me and hoped I would act out and annoy Chris. But even if that was true, the core of the conversation didn't change. He planted a seed in my head, and it had grown into millions of questions and ideas. So I had to talk so Nelson, bright and early, before our chores started.

Luckily, I didn't have to worry about the cameras. Nelson made sure they were showing old footages, so Chris wouldn't notice. If he found us sneaking about, he'd know something was up and I wasn't quite sure why, but my gut told me that wasn't good.

I met with Nelson in the science-part of the classroom. Although the room itself was right next to Chris' office, there was little chance he could see or hear us. The classroom was by far the biggest room in the entire Vault, even bigger than the dining area.

All classes were given in this room, which was divided in different areas by torn green curtains. With only a few kids left in the Vault it seemed ridiculous, but now it gave us a good hiding spot.

'Dude, you were so cryptic before. What's so important?' Nelson whispered, looking around anxiously.

'Relax, Chris won't see us. I wanted to talk to you about something.'

Nelson kept quiet, his eyes still darting towards Chris' door in the distance.

'Well, ok, duh, otherwise I wouldn't have asked you to come. Anyway, Wilson said something that really blew my mind the other day.'

'Wilson? Since when do you listen to _Wilson_?'

'Yeah, yeah, I know, but listen: I've told you before about the dents in my room, right?'

Nelson nodded.

'Supposedly, the guy who had my room before me did it, his name was Collin Dunlow and Chris had him "removed". Not because of the dents, but because he wouldn't stop talking about the Wastelands. He said it's not as bad out there as we've all been told. At first it seemed complete crap to me, but now… I mean, how would people survive if it's really unlivable? And you can't tell me you're not going crazy down here.' I took a breath.

Nelson said nothing, I could see the wheels turning. 'So?'

'So? What, so?'

Nelson shrugged. 'So, maybe it isn't as bad as it seems. So what? That still makes it bad. If Chris is keeping us down here, it must be for a reason. Of course some days are tedious, but at least we're safe.'

My mouth fell open. 'Don't tell me you're not going insane.'

Nelson looked uncomfortable. 'Well, yeah, of course this sucks, but..' he sighed. 'Chris told me I have a real shot at becoming the next Overseer in a few years.'

My heart sunk. 'Oh. Well.' I didn't know what to say.

'Hey, at least that'll make it better for you,' he joked, but didn't smile.

I bit my lip. 'If there's a way to get out, you know I'll go.'

Nelson nodded, his eyes sad. 'Yeah.. so, what did you want to do?'

'You still want to help?'

'Well, yeah, sure. As long as it's not dangerous.'

I smiled nervously. 'Define dangerous..'


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

_Nelson_

I couldn't believe Clay got me to do this. Although he always knew how to persuade me and, honestly, this wasn't that much worse than what we usually did.

OK, focus.

It was 5:58 am, which meant Chris would leave his office any minute now. Clay was already in the dining area, waiting to distract him. It was then up to me to break into Chris' apartment, hack into his computer and scan it for evidence that the Wastelands were more land than waste. Easy-peasy. If only I had Clay's lock picking skills. Luckily, he thought me a few tricks.

Right on time, Chris' door opened. That man was nothing if not punctual. His eyes scanned the room, as if he knew something was up. Or maybe he just did that every morning.

Chris was not a bad Overseer, a little harsh on Clay maybe, but not evil or anything like that.

I never quite got why they didn't get along, but always thought it was amusing. As soon as Chris was out of sight, I slipped to his door and picked the lock.

After all the times Clay messed with his office, you'd think he would secure the place better. But, luckily for me, that wasn't the case.

Much to my amazement, Chris' computer, which was standing all the way in the back of the room, was already turned on. This was going to be easier than I thought.

God, this was frustrating!

Apparently, Chris was a compulsive writer, because his computer was filled with.. everything.

I wasn't one to snoop around in people's personal files, but I couldn't help but read the ones about me, my family and Clay.

Detailed reports about our attitude, labor, medical files (I thought those were confidential) and random notes.

One thing in particular stood out – the files of Clay and his mom were different from the others. Notes more cryptic and reports (even) more detailed.

I started examining the files. The basic information wasn't different from the other files: names, family, characteristics and such were the same. But one thing in particular seemed odd: Jennifer wasn't labeled as a widow. In fact, I couldn't find any data about Clay's father, other than the initials 'C.D.'. Other than that, his file only included his mother (and grandparents) as family.

I looked at the time. 6:30 am. I should really hurry up. Chris would be back in about 15 minutes, 25 if I was lucky and Clay was successful.

But something about these files was bugging me. I knew Ms. McCally was very secretive about Clay's dad and even though Clay never said it, I knew it bothered him a lot. But, as these files proved, Chris wasn't the type to just let everyone be and respect personal boundaries.

So I searched the list of residents (deceased and alive) with the initials 'C.D.', and found only two who fit the criteria: Collin Dunlow and Chris himself. Crap.

With a heavy heart, I searched for Collins file and found what I already dreaded: he had died when Jennifer had only been 15 years old.

Double crap. My mind seemed to stop working and race at the same time. How would I tell Clay? How would he react? Why hasn't anyone told him?

A loud noise interrupted my thoughts. Because I was still in shock over the news, my brains didn't seem to work. They weren't able to identify the noises as gun shots and screams and they weren't able to identify the look of pure terror and alertness in Chris' face when he entered the room and pressed the alarm button.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_Clay_

Chris' face portrayed nothing but suspicion when he found me sitting at one of the metallic dining tables, drawing figures with my finger.

Rosie was still working on breakfast, which would be served between 6:30 and 7 am.  
>He came straight at me. 'What in the world are you doing here, Clay?'<br>'Whoa, hostility. I had trouble sleeping,' this, of course, was a lie. I never have trouble sleeping. 'So I thought I'd beat everyone and come here early. Didn't know that was a crime.'

His face didn't change. 'You never have trouble sleeping. You have trouble NOT sleeping.'

I raised my eyebrow. 'Again with the hostility. Besides, how would _you_ know. For all you know I wake up early every day. To work out, or something.'

Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrow. 'Right. Well, whatever got you up so uncharacteristically early, leave me alone.' With that he walked past me and straight to Rosie, who, all of a sudden, had one plate of breakfast (the same thing as yesterday – ew) ready. Huh. Why couldn't she do that for me?

When Chris sat down and started eating, I saw my chance and took the seat opposite of him. 'Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. But I'll wait 'til you're done eating.'

He sighed. Definitely not a mornings person, at least we had something in common. 'No, go ahead.'

'Well,' I started, stealing a glance at the clock – I had way too much time. 'I was thinking about those History lessons you teach us each week.' No response. 'You keep telling us how much the wasteland sucks. Stealing, murdering, no supplies or safety. But how do you actually _know_?'

Chris stopped chewing, his mouth hanging half-open. Charming. He swallowed. 'Where's this coming from?'

Ah, evasive. 'That's not an answer.'

'Well then don't ask stupid questions. You want _proof_? Other than those Raiders who keep breaching our doors, steal our supplies and kill our inhabitants? Or the radiation?' He snorted and took another bite of his breakfast.

'Yes. Have you ever been out there, seen for yourself what it's like?'

'No, of course not. We're more safe in here than out there, that's something I know without a doubt.' Chris finished his breakfast and stood up. 'Now, if you'll excuse me—' he was interrupted by a loud boom – explosives.

Chris immediately reacted. 'Find a gun, help the others at the entrance.' With that, he bolted out of the room, leaving a string of profanities.

Triggered by Chris' demand, Rosie appeared, holding a Chinese Assault Rifle. Without any hesitation, I grabbed it and ran towards the hallway, leading to the entrance. The ear piercing alarm reassuring me that more help would come soon.

I am not a coward. Danger doesn't scare me and I'm an excellent shooter, but what I witnessed after walking to the entrance area, made me stop dead in my tracks.

Alan and Nolan, two middle-aged men who were the two watchmen for the night, both staring at me. Eyes surprisingly bright, seeing as how dead they were.

The area was covered in thick, greenish-black smoke, hinting radiation.

I would've faced whatever I would find in that smoke, was it not for the dozen voices I heard, shouting at each other.

I'm not a coward, but I can't face an organized group of Raiders by myself.

So I ran as fast and quietly as I could. Away from the smoke and blood, scents already trapped in my nose.

Fuck.

Halfway through the common rooms, I found the other residents. Chris was holding a speech, something about teaming up, but the words didn't seem to stick with me.

Scanning the crowd, I couldn't make out my mother.

'Where is she?' I yelled, interrupting whatever Chris had been saying.

Nelson emerged from the crowd, shooting Chris an apologetic glance. 'She's gone to the entrance, to see if she could help Alan and Nolan,' he whispered so Chris could wrap his speech up.

I shook my head. 'And you let her go alone? She can't help them! They're dead!'

This seemed to cause quite a panic at the crowd.

'Calm down! We all need to stick together!' Chris was shouting. 'If we don't, there will be more losses. Due to a technical issue, I'm not sure how many Raiders there are,' he shot Nelson a glance. 'But I'm sure they'll leave as soon as they find out they're no match for us! Come on!'

The residents mumbled, nodding in agreement, hands firmly on their weapons of choice as they marched alongside Chris towards the entrance area.

'Come on, we need to help as well,' Nelson said, though his tone indicated he'd rather stick a fork up his ass.

This was not the time to freak out. Even though the alarm was driving me crazy, my eyes were watery from the smoke - or were they? - , the images of Nolan and Alan were permanently stuck on my retina and the thought of my mom out there alone nearly paralyzed me. I couldn't freak out.

Nelson nudged me. 'Come _on_.'.

I've never been this slow in a crisis situation, but my brain felt slow. Like that time Nelson and me stole a bottle of whiskey and downed it. I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes.

'Yeah, let's go.'

While running to catch up with the others, I noticed the 10mm gun in Nelsons shaking hand. I had to make sure he stayed safe and preferably didn't have to shoot his gun. Yes, I had to protect him.

Him and my mom.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

_Clay_

Chaotic. That's the only way to describe the scene. Bodies were spread out over the entire Vault. Gun shots were fired both close-by and farther away. People were shouting, but I couldn't recognize their voices. Good or bad? Luckily the smokescreen had faded, so it was easier to see if you were shooting friend or foe. Or at least, it should've been. So many people were speeding by, it was hard to tell who's who.

I tried to keep my eyes on Nelson, but lost him in the crowd pretty quickly, so now I was just making my way to the hospital.

Surely my mom would be there.

The hospital looked like it had been hit by a storm. Desks and chairs had been pushed over, first aid kits lay plundered and broken on the floor. What had once been examining tables, now looked more like scrap metal with their bent legs. What the hell happened? Raids had never been this bad before.

I stomped out some papers that were burning when I noticed an arm lying lifeless underneath some filing cabinets. Their iron drawers hung open: confidential patient files now spread throughout the room.

It's funny how a part of me wanted to read them. I used to try to pick the locks, but never could. Now they called to me, promising distraction from this horrible situation.

Coming closer, I noticed that the arm definitely belonged to a woman: it was too slim and hairless to belong to a man.

With a deep breath I steadied myself and lifted the cabinet, causing the drawers to fall out with an ear blowing noise. Out of shock, I dropped the cabinet and it crashed on top of the woman again, breaking her bones from the impact. But before my hands slid off the edges, I caught a glimpse of her head: she was bald. Nobody – man or woman – in our Vault was bald.

Horrified, I found myself smiling. Smiling that this woman got what she deserved. That it wasn't my mom.

I spat on her arm and watched as my saliva slowly dripped down her arm until it was blended with her blood. That didn't seem enough, so I kicked it. And again. And again. Until I eventually found myself stomping on her arm, like I did before with the burning files, only more aggressively.

Each time I heard another crack, I stomped a little louder. Until a loud gunshot pulled me back to reality.

I hadn't realized how much time had passed, or how relatively quiet it had become.

I stopped and looked at the barely recognizable arm and suddenly felt sick. Maiming was for Raiders, not for me. Without looking back, I hurried to the hallway.

What I saw there would forever be etched into my brain. As if capture by a camera: the image on a loop.

My mom's green eyes, wide from shock and confusion. Her small lips parted, breath escaping. Something dropping out of her hand – a weapon? No, a Stimpack. Her body collapsing to the wall beside her and eventually to the floor, leaving a smear of blood against the wall. And a woman running past me. A woman with purple spiked hair and a distinctive scar on her cheek.

Body on auto-pilot, I lifted my right arm and fired my rifle, the impact smacking my hand against the doorpost, causing my rifle to fall.

Then I screamed and ran after her, into the uncertainty of the Wastelands.


End file.
